(May 14-June 7, 1800)
He has taken my speechless kiss and gone
To his Mary now in the middle of May.
I sate a long time upon a stone
He will bring her back as a bride some day.
I capture the wind and the small rain,
The rhythms of work, the evening quiet.
I shall give William pleasure by it
When he comes home again.
I plant and hoe for the distant yield
But without his warmth the day is raw.
I turned aside at my favourite field,
My heart dissolved in what I saw.
Weather and sky and all I feel,
The love, the loneliness, the lake
With spear-shaped streaks of polished steel
Are an offering for William’s sake.
On his return will he confess
That our haven here from the world’s din
Calls home the heart to quietness?
I could not keep the tears within.
The skobby sate quietly in its nest.
But I labor long and listen late
Till my heart leaps up and the hour is blest
With William’s hand on the trembling gate.
He’s home. The Grasmere fills the sky
And my brimming love can ask no more
Than this dance of spirits bounded by
Its small circumference of shore.
*Lines and phrases in italics are direct quotations from Dorothy Wordsworth’s Journal.